


Back To Basics

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Romance, Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-30
Updated: 2012-06-30
Packaged: 2017-11-08 21:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened afterwards in the graveyard? Who got shot? Did Grace leave it too late? Will Boyd be alone now? And who owns a villa in the south of France?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Back To Basics

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Season 6. This story takes place after episodes 9 and 10, 'Double Bind, Parts 1 and 2'. Follows directly on from 'Back to You'.

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The driver stopped the car and sighed. It had been a long two weeks, what with the case and all, and they knew the next few weeks would seem even longer and be even harder. The driver shook their head. So much had happened, so much to take in. So much pain had been endured; could any happiness possibly come out of it? A sigh broke through the driver's reverie and they turned to look at the passenger of the car. The passenger was still asleep and they looked so peaceful. The driver smiled, the first time in a while. Perhaps the next few weeks wouldn't be that bad after all.

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Boyd rubbed his temple gingerly and frowned. "Grace, tell me again why we're here?"

"Because you need R&R," she replied.

"Rock and roll?"

Grace glared at him. "Rest and recuperation."

"Right, that R&R." He looked around the room in mild interest. "I didn't know you owned a villa in the south of France."

"Let's face it, Boyd, what do you know about me?" she bantered back.

Boyd ignored her. "It's a little…clichéd, isn't it?"

"What is? R&R standing for rock and roll?" Grace replied innocently.

"No, having a villa in the south of France…Grace, why do you do that?" Boyd asked, hardly pausing for breath.

"Do what?"

"That…thing you do where you know what I mean but you make me explain myself."

Grace smiled and held her hands up. "I didn't make you do anything, Boyd."

"Except come here." As soon as the words left his mouth, Boyd knew he'd crossed the line. He closed his eyes, sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Grace."

"Any more comments like that and you will be," she told him firmly. "We are here by agreement, Boyd, because we both need rest after the last couple of weeks, and there are issues that need sorting."

"Do you have use 'issues', Grace?" Boyd asked. "It's such a clinical word."

"What would you rather I use?"

"I don't know. Stuff," he suggested.

Grace stared at him. "Stuff," she repeated.

He smiled. "Yeah."

"Okay, fine. We have stuff we need to work through, just the two of us."

Boyd pulled a face. "Are you going to put your therapy hat on?"

"Only if you put your policeman's hat on."

"I left it at home," he replied, straight faced, and Grace just laughed. "I brought my friend hat, though. Is that one okay?"

Recognising he was making an effort, Grace nodded. "I have that one as well, and another I haven't found a name for yet."

"Mystery and intrigue, Grace?"

"Maybe a little."

"Yeah, because we don't get enough of that at work."

Grace swatted him on the arm. "How are you feeling?"

"Peaches and cream."

"Good. In that case, you can bring some wood in for the fire while I unpack the shopping."

"Wood, fire. Got it."

Grace knew that Boyd would fall into one of two categories: he'd either complain about how much pain he was in, even if he wasn't in any, and get her to do everything; or he'd want to do anything just so he could keep busy, despite any pain he might be feeling. She had suspected it would be the latter, and she was right.

She poured a glass of wine as she emptied the shopping bags. They had driven down to France as Boyd wasn't keen on flying with a head injury, and evening was drawing in when they arrived.

Grace heard Boyd moving about in the living room, stacking wood for the fire, and she smiled to herself. As much as he might complain about the basic chalet, she knew he was already enjoying himself. Getting back to basics would do them both the world of good, especially because they had 'accidentally' left their mobile phones back in England, and Grace had unplugged the phone line to the French house as soon as she had walked in.

She poured a glass for Boyd, waiting for him to come into the kitchen for instructions, but she was pleasantly surprised when the smell of burning wood drifted into the kitchen.

"That saves me having to do the fire," Grace murmured, sipping her wine.

Once the shopping was away, she leant against the counter, wrapped one arm around herself and rested the other elbow on that forearm, the glass of wine hovering near her lips. She started to think about what to cook for dinner, but her thoughts drifted to the graveyard....

*Grace knelt down next to Boyd and brought his head into her lap. There was so much blood, and it looked as though he had been shot twice; once in the shoulder, once in the head, but she couldn't tell. There was just so much blood.

A voice behind her made her turn. The twin brother they had been looking for, Gabriel. They talked briefly, he had pointed a gun at her, and Grace thought that was the end. She closed her eyes and held onto Boyd tighter, her heart stopping when she heard a shot. But when she didn't feel any pain, Grace tentatively opened her eyes and looked around. Gabriel was lay on the floor unmoving, and Stella was standing a few feet behind him, gun in hand, pointing to where he had been stood. The rain was still falling, but Grace thought Stella looked like an angel.

Spencer appeared to the left of Stella, his gun seeking out a target that wasn't there any more.

"It's okay, Spence. Gabriel is down," Grace called to him.

"Boyd?" he yelled back.

"Oh God, Spence, I don't know!" Grace sobbed, frustrated at herself for letting her emotions get the better of her.

"Stella, radio Eve. Tell her the suspect is down -," Spence prodded Gabriel with his foot, "- and I don't think he'll be getting up any time soon, so tell her to get SO19 to stand down. And tell her we've got Boyd but he's injured."

Grace checked for a pulse but there was so much blood on Boyd's neck that her fingers kept slipping. He stirred abruptly and groaned, and his eyes opened slowly. "Ow," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

Grace just stared at him and then she looked down at his shoulder. Something wasn't right…. The profiler suddenly ripped Boyd's jacket and shirt open, and clapped a hand to her mouth.

"Grace, is he okay?" Spencer asked, and his voice sounded very close.

But Grace wasn't listening; she was too busy slapping Boyd around the arms and chest while shouting, "You bastard! You bloody bastard!"

Spencer came to the rescue of his boss and grabbed the profiler's wrists gently. "Grace, what are you…?"

"Let go of me, Spence!" Grace said, her tone of voice a warning. "I'm going to kill him myself!"

"What've I done now?" Boyd asked, his voice sounding raw.

But before she could respond, Spencer looked down and saw the reason for Grace's distress. Boyd was wearing a bullet-proof vest.*

"Grace?"

A male voice, sounding very close, brought Grace back to reality. She realised Boyd was talking to her. "Sorry, Boyd."

He smiled. He was standing right in front of her. "Don't be. Are you okay?"

"Why?" she asked him, finally looking into his eyes.

"Why what?"

"Why were you wearing a vest? You never wear a vest."

Boyd nodded slowly in understanding and leant against the counter next to her, his upper arm touching hers, and she seemed comforted by the simple gesture. "I don't know, Grace," he replied honestly. "It was just a hunch, something James said."

"What did he say?" she asked.

"'I'll get you.+" Boyd shook his head. "I've heard things like that before but that's the first time I believed someone. The day before we arrested James, I felt as though I was being followed, and as I headed to the graveyard, I saw a car tailing me."

Grace was silent for a few moments. She then reached for the other glass of wine and passed it to him. "Well, I'm glad you followed your hunch."

Boyd smiled down at her and as he accepted the glass, his fingers brushed hers. "So am I. But you, Dr. Foley, should have listened to Spence."

"Oh, Boyd, not again," Grace groaned and screwed her eyes up.

"Yes, again, Grace. What you did was just plain stupid! You could easily have been killed, don't you realise that?" Boyd knew he was shouting again and that was the last thing he wanted. Pushing himself off the counter, he padded into the living room, glass still in hand. Setting it on the table, he crouched in front of the fire and poked it, throwing another log on for good measure.

As he stared into the flames, Boyd became lost in his own thoughts, of how close he had come to losing Grace. That prospect scared him more than he wanted to admit, and he knew that was the reason he was angry with her, but instead of trying to explain, he had run away. As usual.

Arms wrapped themselves around Boyd's shoulders, startling him, and he felt a head come to rest on his back, in between his shoulder blades. "I'm sorry, Grace," he whispered, putting his hands on her arms and squeezing. "It's just that…."

"You thought you were going to lose me again and you got scared," she finished for him.

Boyd shook his head. "How do you do that? No, wait - it's your job."

"Correct." Grace sighed and held onto him a little tighter. "And you realise that was why I was angry with you, don't you?"

"You mean why you were hitting me after I'd been shot," Boyd clarified and then smiled, even though she couldn't see him. "Yeah, I know." He ran his fingers up and down her covered forearm. "Just promise me you won't do anything like that again."

He sounded so desperate, so sincere that Grace thought she would start crying. "I promise, Boyd. As long as you promise not to run off again like that without telling someone. You didn't just worry me, you scared the whole team," she told him. "We were just lucky that Stella heard what you said before leaving."

"Yeah, I know. I'll apologise when we get back."

*Spencer let go of Grace as he stared in shock at his boss. Stella had arrived at his side, as had Eve. "SO19 are standing by as are the paramedics," the scientist said, and then she saw Boyd being attacked by Grace again. "And I'd say he's going to need it."

"Damn right he is. It's my turn after Grace has finished," Spencer muttered darkly.

"Did I miss something?" Eve asked mildly.

"Boyd was wearing a bullet-proof vest. He doesn't normally," Stella supplied. "Grace is a little mad at him."

"She's not the only one."

Eve smiled and put her hand on Spencer's shoulder. "You're just overwhelmed that he's alive."

Whether she knew it or not, Eve's remark had hit remarkably close to home. For a moment, Spencer thought about denying it, about trying to retain some dignity, but then he wondered if there was any point. "Yeah, you're right," he admitted.

"You're not the only one," Stella said, also smiling.

It seemed Boyd had recovered some of his sense and had suddenly sat up, enveloping Grace in his arms. She had collapsed against his chest sobbing, her hands grasping his shirt again, much like she had done after the Tony Greene case was over. Spencer felt a lump rise in his throat, and to take his attention away from it, he put one arm around Eve and the other around Stella. Both women were surprised by the gesture, but they knew that Spencer needed comforting, so they wrapped an arm each around his back.

"Don't look now, Grace, but the kids are staring at us," Boyd murmured into her ear, and she gave a watery laugh.

"They're going to talk about this, you know," she replied.

Boyd shrugged very carefully. "Let them."*

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Boyd sighed contentedly. It wasn't a feeling he was used to but he liked it. After their chat, Grace had cooked an outstanding meal and Boyd had washed the dishes. They had then settled down on the couch, Body listening to the radio and Grace reading. At some point during the evening, Boyd had ended up lying down on the couch with his head on Grace's knee. She was playing with his hair absently as she read, and Boyd couldn't help but smile.

"This is nice," he said, and then screwed his face up. "God, I hate that word."

Grace smiled down at him. "I know, but it is nice. Pity it can't be like this all the time, you calm and me not nagging you."

"Why can't it?"

"Because you are you, Boyd, and you're not about to change," Grace replied.

"Okay, so it couldn't be like this *all* the time, but some of the time," Boyd said.

Grace looked at him, closed her book and put it on the table next to the couch, picking up her glass of wine at the same time. "What are you trying to tell me, Boyd?" she asked, sipping her drink.

"Can I sit up? I'd rather not look up at you while I'm talking."

"I thought you always looked up to me," Grace said, smiling.

Boyd pushed himself into a sitting position and rolled his eyes. "In your dreams, Grace. In your dreams."

"You don't know what happens in my dreams."

"Do I want to?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"On how easily you get scared."

"It takes a lot to scare me, Grace."

"Really?"

"Really."

"What about commitment? Talking about your feelings, about yourself? Showing the team you care? Losing me?"

"Those things - that's different, Grace," Boyd spluttered.

"No, it's not. You're scared about getting close to people, about letting people in," Grace told him. Boyd muttered something and stared at the fire. "I didn't hear that."

"You weren't meant to."

"Then why bother saying it?"

"Grace," he whined.

"Boyd," she replied in the same tone of voice.

He picked his glass up off the floor and took a long drink of wine. "You realise this isn't easy for me."

"I know."

"And you're not helping."

"I know."

"Thanks," Boyd said dryly. "I said 'you've got in and I'm not scared about getting close - to you'."

"Oh." Grace blinked in surprise. "But you're still not telling me what you want to."

"Why can't you talk in simple language, Grace?" Boyd asked, pulling a face. "I'm a simple guy."

"I won't argue with that," she replied, smiling. "What I meant was you obviously want to tell me something important, something close to your heart perhaps, and it's difficult for you. You're almost there but not quite. I won't bite, you know."

"No?"

Grace shook her head. "Well, not unless you want me to."

"Grace!"

"Oh, lighten up, Boyd."

"No more wine for you, Dr. Foley."

"Why not? I'm having fun."

"Yeah, at my expense."

"How's your head?"

Boyd stared at Grace. "What?"

"Your head, how is it? You know, after you got shot."

"Yes, I do remember, Grace, thank you. Why the sudden change in conversation? Isn't that my trick?"

"Usually. I borrowed it."

"Please return it in good working order."

"Of course."

"So if I ply you with more wine, what other naughty things will you say?"

Grace laughed. "Naughty? How old are you, Boyd, six?"

"Apparently I act like it sometimes."

"Yes, you do, but I -" Grace bit her tongue before she said something she might regret. "Damn wine."

Boyd smiled. "Loosening your tongue, Grace?"

"Yes."

"I thought that was a good thing."

"No."

"Ah, one word answers now."

"Put some more wood on the fire, Boyd," she told him.

"What did your last slave die of?" he grumbled, but did as he was told.

"He hasn't died yet, and he'd better not do any time soon," Grace replied, her voice cracking slightly.

Boyd didn't sit back down on the couch. Instead he knelt in front of Grace, took the glass from her and put it on the table, and wrapped both her hands in his. "You said we needed to work through some issues, right?"

"Stuff, yeah."

"Right. Stuff. Issues. Same thing. Anyway." Boyd paused to gather his thoughts. "What I did was stupid; I shouldn't have gone off like that. The shot in the head wasn't something I was expecting and I was lucky it was only a glancing blow. What you did, though, was just as stupid. You should have stayed with Eve and let Spence and Stella do their job. You could have been seriously injured or killed as well."

"So we've established we're both stupid," Grace said, smiling. "And we know that we were both angry with each other because we came close to losing each other and that scared us."

"Exactly. And - I - don't have the words to tell you what you mean to me, so…." Boyd leant forward and brushed his lips against Grace's.

"They do say actions speak louder than words," she said after a brief silence.

"But was it the right action to say those words?" he asked quietly.

Grace twisted her hands around so she could squeeze his, and then pulled them free. She leant forward and put one hand on the back of his neck, bringing him forward to her. "I'd say so," she whispered, kissing him back.

When they broke apart, they pure emotion they saw in each other's eyes threatened to overwhelm them, and neither was sure who moved first, but the next thing Boyd and Grace knew, they were embracing fiercely, clinging to each other like they were the last two people in the world.

"So, Dr. Foley, do we have any more issues to sort through?" Boyd asked eventually, still holding Grace tightly.

"Not at the moment, Superintendent Boyd, but I'm sure problems will arise in the future."

"They always do."

"Yes, but if they're sorted sooner rather than later, they don't grow out of control."

Boyd pulled back slightly to look at Grace, and he brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek. "I can't make any promises, Grace. I'm stubborn, I've got a short temper, and I've been called arrogant and conceited."

"You're also gentle and caring when you want to be," she replied. "Maybe you just need the right woman to tame you."

"And you think that's you?"

"It could be. Don't you?"

"I hope so, Grace. I hope so."

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Grace stirred slightly, freezing as she felt a hand resting on her hip. Then she relaxed as she remembered what had happened. They hadn't wanted to rush into anything, and while they weren't exactly passed it, a physical relationship wasn't the most important thing to them for the moment. When Boyd had yawned not too discretely, Grace suggested he went to bed…her bed. She wasn't sure what she expected, but Boyd was the perfect gentleman. Despite his hand resting lightly on her hip, he had kept his distance all night, sleeping practically on the edge of the bed.

Grace smiled. It was comforting having someone to sleep with, but she wanted to be closer to him. Lifting his hand up, she scooted backwards until his chest was flush against her, and then she draped his arm across her stomach.

"Shifting the boundaries, are we, Grace?" Boyd murmured sleepily.

"Sort of like you getting up to check the house is locked when you think I'm asleep," Grace replied.

"Completely different," he said, snuggling closer.

"Of course it is."

"Comfy now?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. Night, Grace."

"Night, Boyd."

FIN


End file.
